


Chimera

by softwhispers



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 17:37:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12869643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softwhispers/pseuds/softwhispers
Summary: Saeyoung thinks she's beautiful... even from afar.





	Chimera

**Author's Note:**

> I've been longing for this love triangle for some time now, but I cannot find anything so I decided to make one myself.  
> Please enjoy! 
> 
> For triggering emotions, I've played this rendition the whole time I was writing this so you may play it while you read if you please:  
> A Thousand Years by The Piano Guys  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QgaTQ5-XfMM

 

She looks at herself in the mirror and decides it’s time. One last puff on the chin and she’s ready to go. As she carefully tips the champagne glass and takes one last sip before standing up, she smiles a little; wondering if the taste of red wine would last long enough to let her groom partake of the sweetness.

 

The look of disbelief and enchantment on his face brought a smile to hers and tears to her eyes that are way too early to ruin her liner. He held her hand, soft and warm against her skin. _He’s shaking_ , she thought. “You… You are just so beautiful, my love,” he whispers.

 

They exchanged vows with the groom almost taking up twice the time she has to deliver her promises. But that’s actually what she liked about him — honest, unafraid, and genuinely loyal. He looks at her like she’s the last shining star on a bleak dark night, holds her like the last hot pack on a snowy day, inhales her scent like she’s the last rose of summer.

 

“You may now kiss the bride.”

 

His eyes turned to her eyes, nose, then lips… His gaze has always been piercing through her very soul, but it’s the first time the emotion they convey could actually be turned into concrete acts. They longed long enough for this. How did they even hold it this far? There’s no telling how far their patience and faith in each other would go.

 

“Jumin…” she breathes as she pulls away from the fiery kiss, afraid they’re making a scene too long.

 

“Sorry,” he huffs, blood rushing to his cheeks and ears getting red at the tips. “You can be so enticing.”

 

The guests shout for joy as the bride and groom head out the cathedral. Jaehee waves enthusiastically, mouthing praises as they both pass by. It was the first time the she saw her clad in anything other than corporate attire, and so the chief assistant was flustered when she commented she’s beautiful. Zen smiled at the bride as well, shaking her hand before kissing it like the gentleman that he is, deserving a glare from her husband, but Zen never minded him and his thoughts (not even in the messenger).

 

Yoosung was there too with his mom at his tail, wiping his sweat and fixing his tie every once in a while. Mrs. Kim was very thankful to Jumin for looking after her son and reporting to her on Yoosung’s progress and concerns. He can be quite a respectable brother who cleans after his stubborn siblings.

 

Later, as the people settled on their own seats, listening to the heart-melting rendition of _A Thousand Years_ by the greatest violinists, cellist and pianist in the country, everything seemed surreal. Sitting there in front of all the most important business magnates, enjoying the most delectable meals by the perfect candlelight, drinking the most expensive wines, sitting next to the most eligible corporate successor of C &R International — being able to stare at his face for so long, so close, being stared back at, smiled at, feeling his breath against her lips, closing her eyes, and seizing _this_ moment.

 

Cheers and applauses filled the air, people whistling, and teaspoons rapping against the wine glasses. “Kiss! Kiss!”

 

Jumin Han need not any request or order. Neither in the office nor in anything related to her. No sound could ever drive him into closing the distance between them anymore. Just her smile, her smile would do.

 

As they end the romantic scene, filling the audience’s satisfaction to brim, her forehead against his, his hand to her cheek, someone comes to view in between, somewhere from afar.

 

Seven.

 

“Damn!” a familiar voice hisses, “…damn that lucky cold-hearted corporate heir.” Zen thrusts a martini at the seemingly lost world’s most sought-after hacker. “How in the world could you have everything?”

 

Seven looks down at the drink and tries to swallow the lump ever-growing in his throat. “Finally admitting he’s got all you could ever want,” he sighs, “after all those years of denying… pointing out his flaws…”

 

“I’m not taking my words back!” Zen’s tone becomes that of his usual castigating self in the messenger. “He’s lacked emotions and all that money can’t afford until she came. God… What did he ever do to deserve it all?”

 

Seven looks up and sees Zen wistfully looking at the newly wed couple, two fingers entrapping the stem of his cocktail glass. “I…” he starts off again. “I’d be the happiest guy on earth to marry such a fine lady.”

 

He glances back at Seven, eyebrows raising. “O-Of course it’s not like that!” Seven’s shoulders shudder in amusement. “It’s just that… you know, if only I met her first and had the chance to be in her presence the most...”

 

“Are you done writing that story yet?” the chip maniac intervenes. But Zen is too deep in his thoughts to be disturbed.

 

“I’d definitely not let any man steal her,” he finishes, “We’ll end up at the altar.”

 

The hopeless romantic-narcissist goes back to their table after inviting the latecomer-workaholic to join them after he gets food for himself.

 

Seven turns his back at the scene, and turns his attention to the lavish banquet prepared before him. Why is his chest tightening, his ears seeming blocked, and his hands shivering? His sight is getting blurry and it feels like his face is getting wet, eyeglasses fogging. No… He can’t appear like this. He quickly wipes the tears with the cuffs of his button-up.

 

It’s as if the galaxy was conspiring against him, reminding him of the things he did but shouldn’t have, and things he should’ve done but did not. Why won’t the music ever stop? It’s being replayed over and over and it’s not helping him shutdown his emotions.

 

“I was thinking you wouldn’t be able to make it, God Seven.” It didn’t help even that she’s in front of him now, wearing the angelic smile he had always taken for granted. “I’m glad you came.” She holds out her hand, ready to shake his as sign of courtesy. But he’s too afraid, scared he might crumble upon her touch, might crave more of such contact. He smiles instead, giving her a slight bow.

 

She chuckles softly, turning her head away as she folds her arms across her chest. “Forgive me. I forgot there ought to be some distance as you’ve always liked, Saeyoung.”

 

It was mortifying; he couldn’t tell if she’s hinting sarcasm or just being playful as she always is when she was with _him_. The sound of his name on her lips almost brings back all the memories he has desperately locked in a coffer, sealed over and over again, and thrown deep into the ocean.

 

“How have you been? The wedding’s… perfect,” he nervously downs the martini Zen gave not a long while ago, wishing he just went with him to escape this agony. “Your efforts certainly paid off,” was the best he could muster.

 

“The only things that needed adjustments were the costs and the ensemble,” she states as she accepts a glass of wine from the waiter. “All the rest, the same,” she smiles up at him before taking a sip.

 

Seven swallows hard, taking another glass as offered by the same server.

 

“Since when did you drink?” she inquires, eyes widening in incredulity. Seven himself was appalled by his sudden change of taste and attitude. Less jokes, more sentimentalities. Less productivity, more sleepless nights. Less caffeine, more alcohol.

 

“Some time ago…” he tells her, wishing it would satisfy her curiosity and stop her asking. Relief then washed over him when she just hummed in response.

 

“I missed you.” He sees her looking at a distance, perhaps at her husband who’s taking his time chatting with corporate personalities. “I’m praying that you’ll always be safe, always happy. You know this, right?” she turns to him, “Your _dangerous agent duties_ , they drive me insane.” She’s always honest, so honest that it kills Saeyoung’s pride, modesty, and integrity. She’s someone he can never be.

 

He forces a smile on his lips, otherwise, she’d see through him. It’s _dangerous_.

“Aye aye, captain!” he says in a lilting accent, and puts down his glass.

 

Just then, the striking of the silverware against the glasses roused with louder hurrahs and thundering ovation. Jumin’s beam augments his devastatingly handsome face as he looks around for his wife. He heads over to where she is, next to Seven who is rooted deeply on the ground for some reason.

 

 _“You tend to be a masochist,”_ her voice echoes in his head _, “you like being hurt, alone, sad, crying when no one else sees. Too reclusive.”_

 

Jumin gently places one hand on her side and another on the nape of her neck as she caresses his face. Seven thinks he can hear Yoosung and Zen yelling at him because he’s blocking their view, but he doesn’t care. He’s trapped, but doing nothing to escape. _Masochist_.

 

 _“But I’m here now, aren’t I? You don’t have to be alone. Just let me stay beside you, will you? Don’t leave, Saeyoung. Nothing bad will happen to me if you’re here.” She carefully removed his glasses and planted a soft kiss at the corner of his lips_ — _a pledge that she’ll never walk away, and a sign of hope he’ll do the same._

_He instantly melted upon the touch of such warm flesh. That’s what it feels like._

_The happiness he believes he can never deserve._

Jumin kissed her just like how she deserved to be kissed, assured and fearless. The world is revolving around the couple. They are the world. He’s the sun — no, the moon. He can never be something so bright; he would orbit around it, in a safe, safe distance, forever.

 

*

 

 

Seven scans the place after most of the people have left and tries his hardest not to break down.

 

She wasn’t lying.

 

 _“All the rest, the same,”_ her voice replays in his head.

 

Garden wedding, small pond with flowering lily pads, pink peonies and baby’s breath everywhere, scented candles at every table…

 

 _“_ _More candles on ours because I want them to illuminate your every feature,”_ she says as she trails her fingers from his nose to his lips.

 

 

The pain he’s feeling somewhat turns into physical pain and it amazes him how powerful it can be. He wished he had been honest with her about everything — tell her that he misses her so much, that he’s dying to hold her, kiss her, that he started drinking when _he left_ , that he’s so sorry for hurting her, that he wishes to bring time back, that he wants her back, and that he loves her still, and forever will.

  

He is hers but she wouldn’t know and wouldn’t care. Would she? She already has everything. Suddenly everything reminds him of such misery.

  

He is a deep dark cave that she dared to explore; says she found a pot of gold, which he utterly threw away. He is an old dusty rotten book whose pages are crumbling, but which she mended and attempted to read carefully; he refused to ever completely open. He is a large mystery box she risked to unravel, but he burned all there is to see.

 

 _Asymptotic_ — Yoosung tells him after getting drunk over his math homework — it’s the line that approaches a curve but never touches. It rings over and over his mind, wrings his heart over and over. Seven thinks maybe he wasn’t meant to have her at all; but for his heart to love her only, let it be. However, he’s never meant to touch the curve, just at the edges, watching over, protecting her as a good defender of justice would.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  


End file.
